


among the dust and the microfiche

by orphan_account



Series: young adult friction [1]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Convenience store!AU, F/M, Gen, Grantaire works at the corner shop, M/M, Multi, combeferre était plus humain, enjolras is a bit of an arse but then again he always is, the rest of the amis are students (as usual), warning for bahorel being bahorel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras scoffs. He didn’t come down here to engage in conversation, and he’s certainly not here to debate the principles of the ethics of convenience store workers and honesty with a drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	among the dust and the microfiche

**Author's Note:**

> Something I started to hopefully balance out the considerably darker Vox Populi 'verse.
> 
> Based loosely on [this](http://zorya.tumblr.com/post/44896992454/les-miserables-au-s-s)
> 
> Recommended listening: "[Young Adult Friction](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFFx5KHxzlw)" by The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

* * *

 

It’s late when he goes down to the corner shop between the old theatre and the subway station; it’s late, because Combeferre’s taken the car to drive Bossuet and Feuilly home, Marius and Jehan are clearing up the mess that Enjolras’ apartment has turned into, Courfeyrac is passed out on a sofa somewhere and there’s no one else to go and buy Joly some aspirin; no one else but Enjolras, who (as Bahorel jokingly remarked), is the most likely of all of them to be jumped at night out in this town.

He pushes open the door and the too-bright lights of the shop blind him momentarily, before his eyes adjust and he heads straight for the medication aisle, pulling his phone from his jeans pocket in order to text Marius.

 **Enjolras:** How’s Joly?  
 **Marius Pontmercy:** alive. sort of. bahorel’s playing what appears to be a recording of a god-awful bass brand on youtube straight into his ears and i’m thoroughly debating kicking him out for all of our sakes.  
 **Enjolras:** Please do. I can’t bear the thought of Bahorel in my apartment whilst neither ‘Ferre nor myself are there.  
 **Marius Pontmercy:** don’t worry, i think we can handle it. besides, jehan won’t let him destroy any of the flower pots :)

Enjolras sighs, picks up a bottle and heads over to the counter, placing a five dollar note down next to it. He waits impatiently, thinking of all the worst scenarios that could unfold in his apartment whilst Combeferre and himself are away, and he’s so deep in thought that he fails to notice for a good ten seconds that there’s actually no one at the counter.

Scowling, he searches for a bell to press. None. Picking up the note again, he peers over the counter, and around it, and eventually walks around the entire store looking for an employee.

He manages to walk into the backroom, where, sitting on an upturned box, is a young man dressed in jeans and an oversized hoodie, holding an open can of beer. He has wild curly black hair, and appears to be sitting on what looks like a squashed red cap.

“Excuse me,” said Enjolras, attempting to keep the annoyance from his voice, “do you work here?”

The man turns to regard him blearily, his eyes red rimmed from what appeared to be exhaustion, not tears. _That at least is good_ , thinks Enjolras, _at least I won’t have to awkwardly deal with a crying young man at half past one in the morning._

The young man simply stares at him for a moment, and Enjolras is about to snap and ask what exactly is on his face that makes him so interesting to look at, when he pushes himself off the box heavily and wordlessly makes his way over to the counter.

“That’ll be $4.59 please.”

Enjolras hands him the note, “And why, may I ask, were you sitting in the backroom drinking whilst on the job? Hardly professional, I’d say.”

The man laughs. It’s not a booming laugh, like Courfeyrac’s, or a light smirk like Combeferre; it’s short and raspy and neither pleasant to listen to nor entirely awful.

“It’s half past one on a Fri- Saturday morning,” the man replies, “and as you can see, it’s pretty much deserted here anyway.”

“That’s not the point!” Enjolras hisses, “it’s the principle!”

“Well, in the end you got what you came for, didn’t you? If there had been no one here at all, then that would have been grounds for making a formal complaint, but since I’m here and you’re paying for your purchase and it’s not like there’s an enormous queue that I haven’t been serving… what exactly is the problem?”

Enjolras scoffs. He didn’t come down here to engage in conversation, and he’s certainly not here to debate the principles of the ethics of convenience store workers and honesty with a drunk.

The man slams the cash register shut and smiles sweetly at Enjolras. “Would you like that in a bag?”

“No, thank you,” he replies brusquely, and turns to leave.

He’s acutely aware of the man staring after him.

 

* * *

 

When he gets back to his apartment, Combeferre has returned and is currently manhandling a drunk Bahorel out the door.

“Oh come on man, you drove my housemates home and not me?” Bahorel slurs, pushing against Combeferre’s upper arms. Bahorel is a tall and strong guy, but so is Combeferre, and he doesn’t move.

“Yes, because they weren’t drunk and unruly and running the risk of throwing up all over my car. You can take the subway by yourself, you’re not a child.”

“I’m drunk and attractive! People will…” he slumps against Combeferre’s chest, “take advantage of me!”

“Just throw up on them, it’ll work wonders,” says Combeferre dryly, and shuts the door in Bahorel’s face.

Enjolras moves over to where Joly is curled up on the floor, absently nudging Courfeyrac’s limp body on the sofa with his knee as he moves past. He pops open the cap, and Jehan appears with a glass of water.

“Right,” says Marius, emerging from the bathroom, looking triumphant. “Me and Jehan are off then, I guess we’d better…” he trails off as he looks down at Courfeyrac, who is drooling a little on the cushions.

“We can carry him home,” says Jehan, as he moves to pick up Courfeyrac’s arms.

“If you see Bahorel on the stairs,” calls Combeferre cheerfully, “make sure you kick him down them!”

After they leave, Enjolras helps Joly swallow two tablets and pulls him onto the sofa.

“You took your time,” murmurs Combeferre, as he stands in the doorway to his bedroom, arms crossed.

“Hmm? Oh, there was an employee who wanted to apparently debate the principles of honest work with me.”

“Please don’t tell me you took him up on his offer.”

“I didn’t. It took me a while to find him, actually. He was in the backroom, drinking.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Combeferre frowns, “drinking alone in the workplace at night?”

Sometimes Enjolras forgets that Combeferre is deeply compassionate, deep under the serious persona he often keeps.

“What does it matter?” he replies, “I got Joly his medicine.”

“...nothing,” replies Combeferre, who disappears into his bedroom and locks the door.

Enjolras looks down at Joly, sleeping peacefully on the couch, and sighs.

 **Combeferre:** you shouldn't leave people drinking alone at night, even if they are strangers.  
 **Enjolras:** I really would rather not have this conversation via text at 2am when we're right across the hall from each other.  
 **Combeferre:** alright, fine.

Enjolras puts down his phone with a sigh, and rolls over to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading/Merci de lire.
> 
> For fic notes, drabbles, questions and possible spin offs, hit me up at [tumblr](http://combeferresque.tumblr.com). (Beware the pop-up Grantaire. Yes, that is a legitimate warning now for my blog. I can't tell you the number of people who have sent me messages saying they got the shit scared out of them by him. ahem.)
> 
> As for Combeferre, I present you all with this, “Enjolras was the more virile, Combeferre the more humane. […] Combeferre was as gentle as Enjolras was severe, through natural whiteness.”  
> \- Victor Hugo, _Les Misérables_


End file.
